


an unconventional tale as good as any

by serenedebeautea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Tragedy, Drama & Romance, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kitsune!Oikawa, M/M, Nine-tailed fox!Oikawa, Romance (eventually)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2328122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenedebeautea/pseuds/serenedebeautea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is eight years old when he first sees him; it wouldn't be for a couple more years before he actually meets him, but it doesn't take too long after for Kageyama Tobio to fall in love with the stranger who brought him home on that fateful starless, but bright moonlit night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the start of the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfiction on this site. I'm still figuring out the format, so bear with me. This is also un-beta'd. Forgive any and all grammatical errors you might find. That said, a few vocabulary words, well, just one, which is you-know-whose (Oikawa's) clothing. Basically, the susohiki, according to wikipedia is usually worn by geisha or by stage performers of the traditional Japanese dance. It is quite long, compared to regular kimono, because the skirt is supposed to trail along the floor. Susohiki literally means "trail the skirt". Where a normal kimono for women is normally 1.5–1.6 m (4.9–5.2 ft) long, a susohiki can be up to 2 m (6.6 ft) long. This is also why geisha and maiko lift their kimono skirt when walking outside, also to show their beautiful under kimono or "nagajuban."
> 
> Characters will gradually be revealed, but for the sake of emphasis as to which pairing this fanfiction will generally be about, I only tagged the initial characters... I'll try to fix that later on, though.

The first time he sees him, Tobio thinks he is dreaming.

And the reason he does is because the elder male is sparkling – yes, sparkling, glittering, shimmering like a brilliant star– in the (ironically or befittingly) starless, but moonlit sky by an old worn-out shrine, not too far away from the quaint village his grandparents live in.

The shrine is a small one. It is hidden carefully in the forest outskirts of the village and if you are not looking for it specifically, then you would most likely not find it.

But here he is, in front of said mysteriously desolate shrine. How he found it in the first place is highly credited to the usual tale of delinquently adventurous tendencies that most children develop at his age. It is no surprise then that if he backtracks his trail and tries to recall how exactly he arrives at where he currently is, Tobio would not be able to do so.

That realization is for a later time, though.

As a boy of a measly age of eight, his curiosity easily overpowers common sense - not that he really has much to begin with, or so his parents repeatedly tell him. Instead of simply walking away and heading back to his grandparents’ house (again, not that he could even if he wants to), he approaches the solitary figure. The other does not move; he does not even acknowledge the presence of the child. He continues on with his business which, it seems to Tobio, is blankly staring up at the clear full moon above their heads.

However, stagnancy can only go so far, especially with a young one involved. Soon enough, Tobio disrupts the calm by tripping over thin air and falling on the harsh ground, face first.

He tears up as any child would in his situation and it is when he threatens to release a cry does the other entity move from his spot. He approaches the fallen one; his porcelain face is carved into a rather petulant pout. It is only when he is looming over Tobio does he stop and speak.

“Really now, don’t cry.”

His voice is not something Tobio has ever heard before. It is smooth, serene, but there is a hint of childishness and obvious distaste in his tone. This stops his impending tears; instead of using his eyes to show his discomfort, he uses them to properly study the man in front of him.

He is tall, taller than Tobio. He is an adult, or at least he is older than him. He is wearing a - of all things -  _susohiki_. A very beautiful one. It is black as midnight with silver and golden floral embroidery. It is tied in the middle by a kaku obi knotted in a kaino kuchi knot, which makes the upper portion of the attire sag slightly, revealing a tantalizingly pale clavicle and protruding shoulders. Despite the obvious irregularity, however - because really, a man wearing an attire meant for female performers and actually pulling off the look are small details his young mind fails to pick up – Tobio looks up earnestly into almond shaped and hued oculars that gleam with a strange tint of gold when the elder refocuses his gaze from the child to the general direction where Tobio came from.

“Are you lost?”

There is no answer. The child merely continues his interested staring, apparently enthralled with the foreign, but very, very _pretty_ (for lack of better word in his underdeveloped vocabulary) stranger.

“Are you mute?”

The male’s eyes go back to Tobio and he locks eyes with him. As if being demanded by those eyes for an answer, Tobio shakes his head fervently.

“My parents told me not to talk to strangers.”

The man raises an eyebrow at this and he scoffs. The scoff soon turns into a chuckle, then it transforms into an easy laugh.

“Aren’t you talking to me now?” The elder kneels in front of him.

“Yeah, but you don’t look like monster… or a bad man to me,” Tobio responds earnestly as his big, blue eyes remain locked with golden almond ones. “Are you?”

“Am I?” Playfulness is evident on his persona as he speaks. “I wonder. I might be.” 

The child frowns because of the vagueness of it all. “You don’t look like you’re a bad guy.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Do you want to be a bad guy?” Tobio asks. The man shrugs. 

“Maybe I just am,” he does not say anything else after that. He helps the child stand.

Wordlessly, he takes Tobio’s hand and then he tugs him away from the shrine and into the green maze he had emerged from earlier on. Tobio struggles, afraid of going inside the forest again. However, his struggles lead to no avail, for the stranger is powerful. He drags Tobio throughout their journey. Somewhere along the way, Tobio stops thrashing about and trying to free his wrist from the other’s grip, seeing as his attempts of escaping whatever fate awaits him are futile. Besides, for some unfathomable reason, he feels no hostility from the taller. He feels oddly comfortable around him.

He wonders why, but he is not given a chance to ponder upon it for long.

His trail of thought is disrupted when he hears familiar voices calling for his name. His father, mother, and grandparents – they are calling for him, looking for him.

His ears perk up and his head immediately snaps towards where he heard his family’s voices.

“Brats should not be wandering around the forest alone at night.”

The pressure on his wrist eases, then it disappears.

The man brought him to the village entrance.

“Thank you.”

“Tobio!”

It takes less than a few seconds for his mother to scoop him up in her arms and hug him tightly to her chest. It takes him a full minute to get out of her hug, so he can thank the other again, but when he does, there is no one there – where the other should be. He is left to stare at the empty spot, pliant in the warm embrace of his family.

In the end, his parents and grandparents take him home, but little Tobio knows that they were not the ones who brought him back.

 


	2. and thus they meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seven years, they finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support, guys. Here is the second chapter. I'm glad this fanfiction was greatly welcomed.

The next time Tobio sees him, it is not because of childish folly, but of adolescent carelessness that is not even his.

He has grown up into a rather reticent fifteen-year-old with a tall and built physique from helping his parents manage their small farm that they inherited from his grandparents – may the gods bless their souls. His eyes are not as wide and naïve as they used to be for they too have aged and have seen many things. But none could quite compare to the visage they beheld a few years ago. It is burnt in his memory, fleeting and ethereal as it had been. After that incident, he tried (still does) to meet the man again.

He even asked his family and the other villagers about the shrine, but their answers were the same: there wasn’t such a place.

But that, for Tobio, was (still is) utter bullocks. He had been, after all, there. Even as a child, Tobio held firm beliefs and faith in what he experienced, not in what others told him – a stubbornness that has stuck to him as a teen.

He sighs. It is futile pondering about it now – he needs to focus on the current task at hand, which is tilling the soil where his father will plant a new kind of rice. With a bit of a stretch, to work he goes off to. However, things never go as planned. Before he could start working, an orange ball of pure energy blocks him. Said pure ball of energy is a familiar bane in his existence, what with him being his childhood friend and all.

“Hinata, get out of the way,” he says in exasperation.

“No way,” is the other boy’s reply.

“I have to work today, I can’t go along with any of your silly antics,” Tobio practically glares daggers at his best friend, come personal menace, who in turn glares at him with equal animosity. “Oh come on, Kageyama, you promised we can go into the forest today.”

“Then go by yourself.”

Shouyo’s frown deepens. “Kind of defeats the purpose of ‘we,’ don’t you think?”

“What are you? Five?”

“Fine, suit yourself, but if I ever find the shrine you’re always talking about, I won’t tell you, you jerk.” Hinata puffs his chest and crosses his arms. Shouyo knows that when it comes to that gods-forsaken shrine, then he could not possibly say no. Somehow, he regrets telling the other about it, but then he is thankful about it too. Unlike most kids of their age and all the adults, Shouyo believes what he says – about the stranger who brought him home and about the shrine. Though, he does attribute it to the other’s natural inquisitiveness.

Nonetheless, he is grateful. Shouyo has tried and, to this day, still tries to help him find that which he cannot.

“Fine, but we can only go for a few hours, got it? My old man’s going to have my head if I don’t get anything done by the end of the day.” Resignation.

At this, Shouyo grins widely and he sprints. “Well, hurry up, we don’t have all day. Get moving before we get caught.”

And sometimes he thinks the idiot is only using it as an excuse to not do his fair share of work, but he sprints after him anyways. But not without delivering a quick smack to the back of his head.

* * *

The forest is calm.

It is no foreign land to him anymore, having grown up with it as his backyard. All the more why he is so hung-up on the fact that he could not find that one place, despite his knowledge of the area. He means, come on, he practically knows the forest now like the back of his hand.

That doesn’t help him, not in the slightest. Not when looking for his hallucinatory shrine, nor when looking for a certain idiot whom he has told time and time again to not go so far ahead, because they might get separated. Seriously, after only a few minutes of entering the forest, they get separated. This is all Shouyo's fault.

“Hinata, where are you?” Tobio calls out. When he gets no response, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. He is never going to give into Shouyo’s little invitations to the forest again. This always happens, always. The moron is far too much of an easily excited imbecile to consider the negative consequences of separating with one another in a forest. He could just leave him. Shouyo knows the forest as well as he does, but he knows, he just does, that his good conscience will not let him stay put if leaves without the one he came with.

Tsk-ing angrily yet again, he curses himself and his idiot of a friend, before he powers through the trees and the twigs and the uneven ground while he shouts the other boy’s name.

He goes on doing this for a few minutes, ten or so, give or take – to no productive result, which is more than infuriating. He will definitely kill Shouyo for this, damn it.

“Oh my, what a scary, utterly un-cute expression.”

Said expression contorts into surprise. He feels a presence behind him, a presence that most certainly was not there before. His eyes whip to the direction of the foreign, yet somehow nostalgic sound. The sight that greets him is not one of nostalgia, but of familiarity. After all, it is, no, he is a vision that is currently present inside the adolescent’s mind.

For the second time he is in his presence, Tobio falls silent – eyes wide and mouth slightly agape (closing and opening in disbelief), like a fish out of water.

“Now, that is the most hilarious thing I've seen all day.”

Definitely not an illusion. Tobio swallows, his throat bobs and he coughs a bit, to forcibly clear his blocked vocals. “It’s you.”

“Excuse me?” The doll-like face appears to be confused, caught off guard by Tobio’s statement. Nonetheless, there is a light in his face, one of amusement. “You seem to know who I am,” he says as he approaches Tobio. He stops when the space between them is that of conversational propriety. “So now, the appropriate question would be: 'Who are you?'”

The query comes with a curious tilt of head and an ever-imposing, commanding countenance that leaves the younger with no choice but to answer.

“You saved me.”

“You saved me?” Surprise, “quite a rare name you’ve got there,” and sarcasm.

Tobio shakes his head, feeling slightly mortified but mostly irritated. This man obviously knows what he means, he just enjoys twisting Tobio's words and throwing them back at him with cynicism. “That’s not what I mean.”

_Obviously._

“Then what _do_ you mean?”

_You already know._

Tobio sighs.

“Careful, you might run out of happiness if you keep on sighing like that.” It is a strange warning, one that has Tobio raising a questioning brow. This time, he is the one confused.

“You haven’t heard? Every time you sigh, you lose a fraction of your happiness.” The tone in which he speaks is condescending, all knowing – like the tone parents use when chiding their children for misbehavior.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true,” the stranger shrugs, there is a smile on his features, one ever present, but almost always never genuine. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“My given name is Tobio, my family name is Kageyama.”

A laugh, a hysterical one at that, an improper reaction for an introduction just given. Tobio scowls. “What’s so funny?”

At his question, the laughter fades casually. The stranger wipes at the corners of his eyes with his pointer finger, before he speaks.

“You needn’t fragment your name when introducing yourself. You could’ve just said ‘Tobio Kageyama,’ and it would have been understandable all the same.”

Tobio realizes his blunder only when it is verbalized by another. How embarrassing. His embarrassment reflects on his face in the form of a flush. “It’s better to be specific,” he mumbles.

The stranger’s smile widens and he nods. “To a certain degree, yes.” Then, he starts to walk. A side-way glance gestures Tobio to follow. “You said earlier that I saved you.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s better to be specific,” the stranger parrots, all smiles and grins.

Frankly, it is more than infuriating. Tobio wonders if his scowl can physically reach the ground on which they walk. “When I was eight, I got lost in the forest. You brought me home.”

They continue to walk in silence. The other seems to contemplate over it a bit. So he doesn't remember, he doesn't recall Tobio as Tobio recalls him. It is a bit sad, but there is no helping it. After all, he is older than Tobio and adults have in their hands a lot of other things. 

Besides, it is customary for the saved to remember their savior, not the other way around.

Come to think of it, he was eight then, so it’s only natural for him to grow and change. What’s abnormal here is that upon closer inspection and memory introspection, the other is practically the same as he was back then. He is unchanged, not by time nor age, like Tobio. This disturbs him.

“You haven’t changed.”

“You've grown.” It sounded like a declaration. Almond shaped and hued eyes rest atop his entire physique and this fact is more disconcerting than the realization that this man has not aged for seven years. Tobio is out of breath, he feels his lungs exhaust. There is an irregularity in the beating of his heart.

_So he does remember._

“You have a knack for getting lost, don’t you?” The other asks rhetorically. The smile on his face is starting to become sickening, albeit its serenity. It is wrong; it somehow just is.

“I,” his words are stuck in his throat, “am not lost. I was looking for a friend.”

“You are lost,” the other repeats, this time with finality. He turns around so he can fully face Tobio.

_Ah, another impressive kimono._ The younger observes.

It is absolutely ridiculous that of all things in this given situation, he notices the stunning _furisode_ the other is sporting. It is a pristine white, adorned by graceful floral patterns with a dash of effects that resemble the fireworks during summer festivals. The designs are of pastel blue and purple shades, giving the entire attire a light feeling. The _furisode_ is a contrast of colorless snow and kaleidoscope spring, with a hint of lively summer. The outfit is no longer held together by a man's knot; it is now kept together by an obi.

“It’s impressive isn't it?” As if knowing what he is thinking, the other calls attention to his kimono, not that he really needs to. Tobio is the odd one for taking notice of it only now.

“Just like the one you were wearing when we first met.” He should ask why he is wearing female’s clothing, but he doesn’t.

“That’s not quite right, Tobio-chan.” The man grins, “we haven’t met yet.”

“What?” And he knows he should have complained about the ‘-chan,’ but he doesn’t.

“You still don’t know my name. I wouldn't consider a one-sided introduction as a formal meeting, would you?”

Ah, he is right. He doesn't know, not yet. But that could be fixed, couldn't it?

“What’s your name?” He asks.

“It is better if we don’t meet,” is the response. Yet again, the smile that accompanies his words seems wrong. “After all, there would be no point if we aren’t going to meet again.”

He says it with such certainty that it disturbs Tobio. He does not understand the elder’s logic, not one bit. His being lost must have shown on his expression, because the older male laughs at his expense once more.

“The first meeting, the exchange of names, is the establishment of a bond,” he explains while he wags his finger in front of the younger. “There is no point establishing a bond if we’re not going to meet again.”

His logic, in Tobio’s opinion, is bullshit.

“But isn't that paradoxical? I mean, isn't the whole purpose of forging a bond is so that two people can meet again?” His frown is discovering new depths.

“Exactly, so it’s pointless if we aren't going to meet again, ever.”

“How are you so sure that we aren't?”

“How are you certain that there is a possibility we will?”

“Because by your logic, we shouldn't even be talking to one another right now, but we are.”

This silences any argument that might throw at him, but it also removes from his face that irking smile. It replaces it with a childish pout that is far more natural on him than the latter.

“Jeez, if you wanted to know my name, you could have just said so.” The other male crosses his arms and the only thing missing in this picture is for him to stomp his feet childishly at the minor defeat he just suffered.

“I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want to know.”

“Oh, shut up!” He huffs, then he uncrosses his arms in favor of putting a hands on top of his hips and sticking his tongue out at the younger.

Definitely childish.

“My name is Tooru. Tooru Oikawa.”

Finally, a name. He can finally address him with a name – not just stranger, the elder, the other.

Unconsciously, the corner of his lips tug upward in the semblance of a small smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Oikawa-san.” He offers his hand for a handshake.

Another huff and then a puff of chest. “I can’t say it’s the same for me, Tobio-chan.” But he shakes the offered hand anyways.

“This makes it twice.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve saved your sorry behind twice,” Tooru informs him, a challenging edge added to his self-satisfied smirk. “I’ll make sure we meet again so you can pay me back a hundredfold.” Tooru's grip on his hand tightens.

Tobio squints. “What are you talking about, Oikawa-san?”

Before he is given an answer, he feels a powerful thump at the back of his head and he recoils. He lets go of Tooru's hand. His head whips to his aggressor, only to be met with Shouyo’s ashen face.

“The hell are you doing Hinata?!”

“The hell am I doing? I should be asking you that, you idiot! Where have you been?!”

“That’s what I should be asking, you moron!”

Shouyo glares at him and he is taken aback. Shouyo is normally a happy child, Tobio is not aware that he could pull off a look so similar to his own when he wants to murder the other when he does something foolish. “When we entered the forest, you suddenly disappeared, you ass. I’ve been looking for you the whole day.”

Tobio’s frown deepens. Really, he’s surpassing his own record here. He doesn’t respond. At the very least, they've found each other and they can finally go home.

“I thought you’ve been eaten by a lion or something,” Shouyo says with a shrug of shoulders as he puts his hands at the pack of his head.

“Stupid, there are no lions in the forest,” Tobio counters.

“You never know, you just never know,” Shouyo says with a silly expression on his face. He whacks the underside of Shouyo’s head, just because he is being stupid. Might do him some good, Tobio thinks, it might jumpstart the gears of his nonexistent brain.

“If you can hit that hard, then you’re fine. What have you been doing the whole day, anyways?”

“As I said, I was looking for you, too. We must’ve missed each other.” Then, he recalls that he is not alone. Prior this, he was shaking Tooru’s hand. He turns back immediately to his previous companion. “I’m sorry for that idiotic display, Oikawa-sa...”

There is no one there.

Shouyo stares at him as if he’s grown two other heads. “Who are you talking to?”

“There was someone just here, before you hit me,” Tobio responds as he looks around for any sign of Tooru.

“What are you talking about?” Shouyo asks, confusion now evident.

“There was someone wearing a _furisode_ with me,” Tobio tells him as he continues to look around for the elusive other.

Shouyo blinks rapidly at him and he puts down his arms as he stares at his friend with concern. “Did I really hit you that hard on the head?” Tobio sends him a glare that makes him squeak and jump a bit. Shouyo flails his arms as he says the following:

“There wasn’t anyone with you when I found you. You were the only one here.”

Wait, he swears he entered the forest with Shouyo only a couple of hours (if not minutes) ago. But now, he notices, it is already night. Yet again a starless night, but all is illuminated by the eerie full moon that looms over them in the dark blanket of the night sky.

Tobio feels a shiver run down his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A furisode (振袖?, lit. swinging sleeves) is a style of kimono distinguishable by its long sleeves, which range in length from 85 centimeters for a kofurisode (小振袖) to 114 centimeters for an ōfurisode (大振袖). The sleeves are attached to the body of the kimono only for a short distance; the inner edge is open for the rest of its length, allowing the lining to show on the inner edge (or both, if the sleeve is left open on the outer edge as well).
> 
> Oikawa's clothing, yet again!
> 
> Furisode are the most formal style of kimono worn by unmarried women in Japan.
> 
> The furisode is made of very fine, brightly colored silk, and is commonly rented or bought by parents for their daughters to wear when celebrating Coming of Age Day the year they turn 20. By wearing a furisode, a young woman signifies that she is both single and a legal adult, and thus available for marriage. In this sense, a furisode might be likened to the formal gowns worn by debutantes in the West.
> 
> The furisode is generally worn for formal social functions such as the tea ceremony or wedding ceremonies of relatives. Since furisodes can be quite expensive, many women rent them as needed rather than purchasing them.
> 
> Kudos to almighty wikipedia.
> 
> I tried to make an Aobajosai color reference, but I failed, so... Anyways, the next chapter: please look forward to it.


	3. of springs and bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time he sees him is the second time they officially meet, but it is not how Tobio imagines they would, nor does it turn out as he expects it to.

The third time they meet is because of a completely unforeseen incident – a rather stupid blunder on Tobio’s part.

Their second meeting instigates a series of questions and baseless speculations. Said premises plagues his mind daily ever since his encounter with the enigmatic man known to him now as Tooru Oikawa and as follows are the reasons why: firstly, Shouyo tells him that they have been inside the woods from morning until late evening. Naturally, he tries to refute this, but finds it impossible for when he checks, the night sky is already above their heads. He doubts that Shouyo has the ability to control the skies, so he could prank Tobio. However, he swears not that much time passed since they entered – but truly, that much time has passed; there is sufficient evidence that it has.

Secondly, the implication of aforementioned initial qualm is rather unbelievable. Time distortion is not normal, heck, it should not even be possible. But there is no other concept to explain the time warp that has transpired, so he accepts it as a possibility, but not yet as a truth.

Thirdly, the questions that the event brings are a barrage of unrelated queries, bound only by one common factor which is a certain Tooru.

Who exactly is Oikawa Tooru?

Everything is unclear and if there is anything he dislikes, it is not having a total grasp on happenings that directly involves him. Not even the wrath of his father, nor the concern of his mother could deter his troubled mind to ponder on these points, particularly on finding the answer to the one question that could serve as an explanation for all the oddities and mysteries surrounding his meetings with Tooru.

Going back, he has already internally mentioned that these are the things that have bothered him for days on end and to this day, a good two weeks since then, they still do.

He sighs.

“I might haven’t much happiness left, Oikawa-san.”

This he says, before he takes one glance at the small visage of his village – all quaint and homey in its familiarity. He promised his father and mother that he would no longer enter the forest, but he still does. Like a child, his curiosity overpowers his smarter side. He will gladly face later restitution than leave this particular mystery unsolved.

Today, Shouyo is not with him. Tobio has not seen him since two weeks ago. No doubt, he is under supervision after their little disappearing stunt. The latter is luckier, though. His family composed of only his brothers who are always lenient, kind, and over all understanding people, albeit their queerness, which definitely runs strong in the blood of Shouyo's family.

This is alright, too. He does not want to be around anyone right now, especially one who insists on the otherwise of what he thinks (and wants to believe). He is inside the woods now; he has been for a good hour, really. He would not deny that he has not yet returned to the village because he wants to meet with Tooru, but that is not the only reason. See, there is a lake in the forest and it has the strange ability to calm him down at any given circumstance.

It is the lake where his villagers catch freshwater fish – a major part of their livelihood.

(He plans to use fishing as his excuse for entering the forest again. Surely, his parents – especially his father – wouldn’t have anything to say against that.)

He arrives by the edge of the lake soon enough. The sight that greets him is the same as it has always been – serene. The lake is deep, very deep, but it is also clear. And it is beautiful, what with the sun is up, high in the sky, making the water of the lake shimmer with its light. But it is not at all hot, for the lake is surrounded by a myriad of trees, almost as if they are hiding it. Tobio stays under the tree nearest where water meets land and he sits on the overgrown root that is protruding from the ground. His proximity allows him to dip his feet into the cool lake, which is a rejuvenating experience after an hour or so of dilly-dallying.

This is where it happens.

As mentioned earlier, the lake calms him, puts him at ease. So much so that he is soon lulled to sleep by the songs of deceitfully calming sirens that bear its fangs not too long after Tobio falls for their enchanting invitations to a world of reverie.

And he falls (not because of sirens and all that symbolic madness); he falls because he thrashes around in his sleep and his location is not really the best for a rather ‘energetic’ sleeper as he. So, he falls off the root and into the water he rolls himself into.

Unconsciously, of course.

* * *

 

_Warm droplets of liquid fall on his left cheek. The right is secure under a trembling hand; it ascertains him that the liquid then is not from him – tears, most likely – but from the owner of the hand shaking softly like a rustling leaf against the cold expanse of his face._

_“You are a moron.”_

_“Probably, but if I am, then what does that make you?”_

_“Touché. You’ve become cheeky.”_

_“I learnt from the best.”_

_“Oh, shut up.”_

* * *

 

He wakes up with a start. His whole body jerks upright, or as upright as it can get while fighting against multiple theories of water buoyancy. Or so for a few seconds, since his mind is still not quite fully conscious despite everything. However, there isn’t any need for alarm, he thinks groggily, for the water is only knee deep – or so is revealed when he tries to stand.

… _What?_

Two curious things here: first, he has been swimming in the deep-water lake since childhood, he know that it should not only be this deep, even if he is just by the border. Second, he is pretty certain that he fell into a lake – into _the_ lake that his village always went to for fish – not a spring.

Tobio is forced to fully wake. His eyes widen at what he sees. A spring – a huge spring is in the place of the lake where he should have been seconds ago.

Perhaps he is dreaming? Maybe he has already drowned and has gone off to the world beyond? And it seems the world beyond greets its new inhabitants by plunging them into a spring surrounded by mossy rocks, thick shrubs, and towering trees.

Confusion eats away at him – a little alarm, as well.

“Where am I?” He asks the wind which blows tauntingly as response.

“That’s a very good question, Tobio-chan.”

Tobio feels his heart jump out of its bony constraints when he hears Tooru’s voice. Frantically, he searches for its source. He is not too far behind him, soaking rather peacefully by the edge of the spring with his back against a large boulder.

This time, even when it is hidden under the waters of the spring, he notices the other’s clothing, not because of its extravagance, but because of its utter simplicity that contrasts vastly with everything he has worn until now. Tooru is in naught, but a white _nagajuban,_ absolutely drenched from being under the water for gods know how long.

Tobio wastes little time and effort in waddling towards the elder.

“Oikawa-san.” A statement, come greeting to confirm that the other is really in front of him. That he exists, and is currently staring at him with his almond brown eyes and pallid skin, made paler by the whiteness he wears and softer by the wetness that coats him. Speaking of pallid, Tobio studies Tooru – he is way too pale. They have met only two times before and he has always worn clothes then, which is probably why Tobio never got to look at him properly.

The elder’s body is lean, as well-built as his, but leaner, longer… perhaps even stronger. Yet, there’s this sickly quality in it that makes his insides churn.

Too ghostly.

Far too ethereal.

“You do know it’s rude to stare, don’t you?”

That alerts him that as he is studying Tooru, Tooru is also studying him, thus his staring is caught immediately. Not that he would deny doing so – denying the obvious truth is not something he does – but it Is still embarrassing to admit. His embarrassment flushes his cheeks red and he does not respond to the rhetorical chide. Instead, he turns his head away.

“Where is this?” Tobio frowns as he asks, partly from shyness and partly because he wants to know where is as much as he needs to.

“Shouldn’t you know? You are here after all,” Tooru responses, smile as elusive as ever – a smile that is not reflected in fiery oculars that are lighted by something, something undefined – incomprehensible to the younger as of current.

“I asked because I don’t,” he counters. “I…” he trails off, “don’t know how I got here.”

“Regardless, the fact that you are here remains unchanged,” Tooru says as he closes his eyes. “You should sit down and relax. The spring water would be good for you.” It amazes Tobio how nonchalant Tooru is about this. Then again, since he does know where they are, the gravity of the situation for him is different. There is no gravity for him at all, no casualty.

“Where am I?” He asks again.

“’Where are _'we'_ , you mean.” Again with the unnecessary correction, when he already knows what the content of what the younger is saying. But then than in itself is an answer. Tooru has no intention of giving him a direct response. As frustrating as it is, all Tobio could do now is take the other’s advice, sit down, and soak in the spring. Tooru holds the right to set the pace and direction of their conversation.

It does not, however, go unnoticed to trained blue hues, when Tooru smiles slightly when Tobio decides to acquiesce with his unsaid mandate.

“You are where you were,” Tooru says suddenly with his eyes still closed.

Tobio stares at him. “I don’t understand.”

“You are where you were,” Tooru repeats.

And so, he repeats his response, too. “Like I said, I don’t understand,” but he elaborates this time, “I was by the lake’s edge before I got here. I have no recollection of coming here. I didn’t even know that there was a spring like this in the forest.”

His irritation at his own ignorance and state of panic shines through the entirety of the revelation. It irks him.

“Just because things aren’t as you know them to be does not mean they cease to be what are.”

Tooru shrugs after his befuddling words. He does not let Tobio get another word in. He stands up and climbs solid ground. Oikawa then stalks off without as much as a wee rustle, leaving a wet trail on the ground on which he walks by. Tobio follows.

However, he does not match the elder’s pace like what he usually would do. There is silence between them – a rarity. But it is by maintaining a few steps back does he notice something that disturbs him. Because of the fabric’s wetness, the _nagajuban_ is hugging the elder’s form flawlessly. As it also made it a bit see-through, Tobio spots a darkened spot on the other’s neck all the way down to the small of his back. It is such an ugly black against pale white; it is obvious to eyes not so keen, what more to those that are.

He gapes and then, he gasps involuntarily. Realizing this, he tries to stop midway, which results to a hitch of breath and a halt to his movement. Oikawa hears him, obviously, for he too stops. But he does not turn around, he merely covers his nape with his hand, as if it could conceal the offending blemish and make Tobio unsee what he has already seen.

“Oikawa-san…”

No response.

“Oikawa-san, that,” he does not know what to call it, “bruise. Where did you get it?”

No response. Tobio takes the initiative to close the distance between them. When he does, his cobalt blue eyes inspects the black and purple are on Oikawa’s nape and back. The churning of his insides heightens in intensity. He reaches out, but his hand stops. It looms awkwardly on top of Oikawa’s that is covering his nape. He thinks of retracting his hand, but he does not. It takes him, however, a moment or more before he covers the other’s hand with his own.

Tobio realizes then that this is the first time they have touched. He realizes it when a jolt of unfathomable sensation comes from inside of him. His heart beats faster and there is this ringing in his ears that mutes out all the other sounds in his immediate environs. He wonders if the other feels it too. He hasn’t the chance to confirm as it lasts only for a few seconds, because Tooru breaks the connection by lightly swatting his hand away and turning towards him.

There is no smile on his face this time and there is no unfathomable glint in his eyes; there is only blankness, and that too lasts only for seconds, before the smile returns mechanically. There is blankness in his eyes still, though. Tobio’s hand retreats to his side as he stares in fascination at the series of expressions the other’s fair features undergo in a matter of milliseconds, but he knows his silence and his unwavering stare are enough to convey that his earlier question still stands.

Tooru coos. “Is Tobio-chan worried about me?” He claps once, bringing his hands together. “How cute.”

“Oikawa-san, please answer the question.” He does not deny that he is worried, because he is. “Where did you get that bruise?”

“I collided with a huge rock while I was heading for the spring,” is his nonchalant reply. And it is obviously a lie, or at least not the whole truth.

“Is that what really happened?”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Tooru’s tone is challenging.

“Well, you seem like you aren’t telling me the truth, either,” Tobio challenges back.

Tooru hits his shoulder lightly. “You just became uncute again. You’re such an arrogant brat,” he clicks his tongue as he turns away from Tobio and restarts his pace. “Don’t go around patronizing your elders, it’s rude.” Once more, the childishness is there. But Tobio knows it is a façade and a transition to another topic to avoid the current one at hand.

Tooru does not want to dwell on it.

So, they do not, at least not out loud. They walk on in silence. Tobio cannot help but dwell on it and about other things regarding Oikawa Tooru on his own

* * *

 

It takes them a while before the arrive in front of a setting so familiar, yet so foreign, Tobio’s eyes widen and his jaw drops.

There It is – the shrine he saw back when he was a child.

The place of beginning.

“This is…”

“My house,” Tooru cuts him off. “I can’t exactly send you off drenched.”

The kindness is unexpected. It stuns him.

“A little thank you would be nice.”

“Thank you,” he says automatically upon being reminded of manners. Tooru scoffs and leads him into the shrine through the back door that is near where he first saw Tooru way back when.

He never really got a good look at it, but the shrine is pretty huge. The part where he met Tooru is but one of many long corridors of the structure. He is led around through twists and corners that he is sure to get lost in; there are also a lot of rooms. The interior is impressive, as he should have expected from someone who wears expensive-looking attires all the time. As spaciously extravagant as it is, it remains loyal to fundamental traditions and is imbued with a sense of simplicity (with only a few the grand pots that are on every corner they pass and other antiquities that hang on the walls.)

It is only when they reach the second fork of the first corridor that they have entered does Tooru relent. He whispers quickly to Tobio. “Don’t make a sound, not a peep.” It comes menacingly enough for Tobio to agree without question.

They tiptoe their way through the long corridor and would have most likely reached their destination (the room by the very far end of the corridor), had Tobio not sneezed. When he does, Tooru freezes, whips his head towards the younger and glares at him.

“Tobio-chan, you idiot,” he grabs Tobio’s hand and pulls him.

They sprint, only to be stopped by a booming voice at the other end of the corridor – the one where they have just come in from.

“Trashy-kawa, where the hell have you been?!”

Tooru visibly cringes. Tobio watches him as he closes his eyes. The grip on his wrist tightens (déjà vu). The two of them have come to a stop and are now standing completely still. The elder breathes in deeply, before sighing.

“Hello, Iwa-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for all the kudos and the comments. It is inspiring me to write. Although, I am a bit busy currently, so I might not update as frequently as I would like. Finals are coming up, so I shall have to focus. This work is unbeta'd. Have mercy, haha.
> 
> The nagajuban is basically some sort of under kimono under the kimono. Nothing grand this time, but then there is the appearance of Iwaizumi. Stay tuned. Also, I think the feels would settle if you watch this video first. 
> 
> Kamui Gakupo, KAITO, Kagamine Len - Cherry Blossoms, Falling -Beautifully- (桜舞イ散リヌ-麗-)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqY36Pm3oRw
> 
> This actually had a huge effect on me while writing this chapter. And it hits me right in the feels for certain reasons that'll be revealed in due time, perhaps after a few more chapters. Hahaha. I think my notes are being jumbled. O.o though, excuse the messy notes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction on this site. I'm still figuring out the format, so bear with me. This is also un-beta'd. Forgive any and all grammatical errors you might find. That said, a few vocabulary words, well, just one, which is you-know-whose (Oikawa's) clothing. Basically, the susohiki, according to wikipedia is usually worn by geisha or by stage performers of the traditional Japanese dance. It is quite long, compared to regular kimono, because the skirt is supposed to trail along the floor. Susohiki literally means "trail the skirt". Where a normal kimono for women is normally 1.5–1.6 m (4.9–5.2 ft) long, a susohiki can be up to 2 m (6.6 ft) long. This is also why geisha and maiko lift their kimono skirt when walking outside, also to show their beautiful under kimono or "nagajuban." 
> 
> Characters will gradually be revealed, but for the sake of emphasis as to which pairing this fanfiction will generally be about, I only tagged the initial characters... I'll try to fix that later on, though.


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